


fade to black

by hiraethseok



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Character Bleed, Couch Cuddles, Dorks in Love, EW Photoshoot, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, Love Confessions, M/M, Morning Sex, Multi, Nipple Play, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital Cuddling, Rimming, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, They love each other so much, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24350356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethseok/pseuds/hiraethseok
Summary: j2m get emotional after the ew photoshoot and get a motel room together. things happen.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins/Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 24
Kudos: 106





	fade to black

**Author's Note:**

> ew photoshoot still makes me emotional, so i wrote abt them fucking to cope <3
> 
> enjoy!!

They get a motel room. They don’t discuss it beforehand, but Jensen’s fumbling with an invisible thread on his jeans and Misha is strangely quiet, so Jared just silently pulls into an empty parking space and lets the engine run.

Jensen’s breath hitches. A neon sign flickers. 

“Jared.” Jared turns and catches Misha’s gaze in the rearview, bright and nervous. “What are we doing here?”

“What do the guys do when they come here?” he jokes, but it feels strangely heavy settling on his shoulders and weaving around Jensen’s still fingers and Misha’s frown. “Let’s get a room,” he says. “Just for the hell of it.” 

He hops out of the car before either of them can refuse, and he’s faintly pleased when Misha follows him, Jensen trailing behind. Jared’s familiar with all of Jensen’s moods, knows when he’s scared and when he’s sad and when he’s angry, but he’s none of those things. He may even be all of them at once, some swirling, draining amalgamation of feelings that are broadcast in the hazy look in his eyes and the slight hunch of his shoulders. 

This photoshoot. God. It’s got all of them messed up, in one way or another. Jared blasts through it with dizzying smiles and bellyache-laughs, but it’s all piling up now, hitting him hard. Misha’s kind of the same, but instead of going sad, he goes silent. He’s a steady presence behind him, even now, and then Jensen creeps up on his other side and sighs, soft.

“A motel room, huh?” he asks, but not as a question. Jared’s lips pull into a smile. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Thought it would be fitting.”

“It is,” Jensen says. He’s hesitating over something, Jared can tell, and then Jensen reaches over and grabs his hand in his, squeezing it tight. Wordlessly, Jared squeezes back. 

“It’s okay,” Jared says immediately, because dammit, it _is_. Nothing has to change, Jared knows that. They can still have their family trips and their kids can still play together and they can still meet up for drinks or movies or whatever-the-fuck else they want to because nothing’s really over, but at the same time, everything is. 

Their foundation is getting sealed off, screwed shut, painted over with white to start something new, and that scares him. Scares Jensen and Misha, too, but he can’t exactly blame them. Hell, he gets it.

“Are we staying the night?” Misha asks suddenly and Jared nods. He doesn’t have to think this one through.

They approach the desk like that, with Jensen grabbing onto Jared’s hand like he’s losing his grip on reality and Misha standing stone-faced beside him, so Jared quietly takes the lead.

“Two queens,” he says. Wonders if the lady at the desk thinks they’ve gone insane or something, based on her wide-eyed stare.

“Room 327,” is all she says. Jared thanks her with a smile and takes the keys from her, and then he herds his two frie-- Jensen and Misha into the room. 

It’s a cozy little place, two queens and a couch (Jared will tease Misha into taking it, but he will later refuse to let him), and a door leading to the bathroom. Better than either Sam or Dean have seen, but it’s the principle of it. Besides, Jensen’s still holding his hand like it’s gonna fall off, so Jared’s priorities are elsewhere.

“Jen,” he says, whisper-soft. Jensen looks up so fast Jared hears his neck crack. “It’s okay, we’re home.”

That word makes Jensen flinch. It’s not a bad flinch - he’s not pulling away - but his eyes are wide and wet and Jared aches inside. “I’m right here,” he says, curls a gentle hand on Jensen’s cheek. His hair is still spiked dark from the champagne, and Jared imagines he’s not much better off, but it makes Jensen’s eyes stand out and Jared can’t stop staring at them.

“Jared?” Jensen says, sounding small. Jared grins winningly, thumbs at the apple of his cheek.

“That’s me,” he chuckles. “‘S alright, Jen, I’ve got you. Misha’s got you, too.” Misha materializes beside him, and Jared is so, so grateful. 

“Look, you’re fine, Jensen. You’re okay.” Misha’s so careful, so soft with him, trailing loose fingers down Jensen’s arm to wrap up his hand in his own. He squeezes, too, and that’s when Jensen finally cries.

Jensen Ackles doesn’t cry. It’s not that he’s incapable of it, no, Jared’s watched too many of his performances to believe that. It’s more like he doesn’t _like_ to. Crying is a loss of control, and more than that, it’s intensely physical. Jensen hates feeling stuffed up and fever-hot, hates the heaving and the choking and the heartache that comes along with it. Jared’s with him on most of those rare occasions that his body can no longer handle bottling it up, and the years of familiarity make it easy for Jared to react, to shove aside everything else and just focus on _Jensen_. 

Misha’s learned pretty early on to let Jared take the lead when it comes to Jensen, but he’s a quick study. Jensen responds to Misha just as openly as he does Jared, hands trembling around the fistful of his shirt he’s holding. Misha doesn’t move, keeps talking lowly about everything except the show and the photoshoot and the fact that they’re standing in a motel room instead of traveling back home, and Jensen’s screwing his eyes shut, cheeks red, nose redder, and when he looks back up, his eyes are pink.

“Sorry,” is all he says, and Jared really wants to throttle the sentiment out of him. He settles for grabbing his shoulder, sliding his hand up to his neck and stroking rhythmically over a pulse point. It thrums wildly under his finger, and Jared’s lips quirk into a half-smile.

“You don’t have to be.” He leans in to press a chaste kiss to Jensen’s cheek, the same place he did during the shoot, but he holds himself there just a little longer, breathes out shaky, lips barely touching Jensen’s skin. Jensen’s hand shoots up to grip the back of his neck, fingers tightening, trembling.

There are words Jared wants to say. Words like _thank you_ , and _I’ll never leave you_ , and even _I love you_ , but he doesn’t say them out loud. No, they’re too sharp to spit up right now, too raw to whisper in this space between nostalgic and hopeful. 

“Jensen,” he says instead, and he hopes Jensen can read between those impossible lines. 

Jensen’s not crying anymore. But he is _shaking_ , god is he shaking. His fingertips bleed warm like they’re branding him, but it’s not possessive or harsh or painful. It’s a slow lapping, a quiet whisper of _I know you’re here_ , and _so am I_. 

So Jared tilts his head just a little and kisses him, soft and gentle. Jensen kisses back like he’s been thirsty for it for years, for eons; like he’s been waiting for this since the moment they first laid eyes on one another in that little casting room, all Texan drawls and shy glances. 

Something slots into place and Jared laughs, but it doesn’t ruin anything at all. Jensen smiles too, and their teeth knock together briefly.

“Jared,” Jensen breathes between one kiss and the next, and Jared knows he understands. He kisses him a little harder for it. 

“Jesus,” Jensen gasps when they pull away, and Jared’s weirdly entranced by the glaze in his eye. He’s still red from crying, but there’s a faint sheen of pink dusting his cheeks too, flushing down his throat and into the neckline of his shirt. Jared’s staring, not trying to hide it in the slightest, but there’s nothing raunchy about it. It’s appreciation, awe; admiration of the sculpture-esque planes and dips of Jensen’s body. 

He’s been through so much with this man in front of him; births and deaths and so many flashes of violent change, and yet, Jensen’s been one of the only steady pillars he’s had to lean against. Jared’s entire world is wrapped around Jensen’s, interlaced in some intricate pattern that Jared swears is some inside joke between the universe and fate.

Maybe it’s not a shock that he loves Jensen, that he’s been in love with Jensen for almost as long as he’s known what love really means, but the revelation trickles warm in his chest and flows down, down, down, and fuck, he really wants to kiss Jensen again.

“You two make a great view.” Jared jerks his head to the side, and he catches Jensen doing the same out of the corner of his eye. Misha’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed and grin snarky, and it’s such a sudden blast of normalcy that Jared blinks, unable to find any of his usually witty responses.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” Misha says. Jared’s not sure how Misha’s managed to collect himself so effortlessly, but, he muses, it’s _Misha_. He probably should’ve expected this.

“Mish,” Jensen says. He sounds more than a little sheepish. “D’you wanna join?”

Misha laughs, and his eyes flash with something bright and happy. “Get it out of your system first, Romeo.” Jensen scoffs, but his gaze flutters back to Jared’s and he looks so damn _happy_ , eyes clear and green and Jared finally succumbs to desire and captures his lips in another kiss. Jensen’s squeak of surprise is lost somewhere between them, and Jared thinks he hears Misha sigh in the background, smile radiant enough to warm up the whole room. 

Jensen tastes like champagne. Jared’s not sure how he’d managed to get away with a taste of the props from the shoot, but then Jensen nips playfully at his lip and Jared forgets to wonder why it matters. He gives as good as he’s getting - he’ll be damned if Jensen walks away with the impression that he’s lacking in skill - and it makes him giddy the way a highschool-first does, like Jensen’s someone he’s rediscovering through a wildly different lens. He’s never known that Jensen makes that little noise when he tilts his head just right, or that he whines when he bites at his lip, and he catalogues this away into some secret place in his mind dedicated to all the ways Jensen Ackles manages to drive him crazy. 

It might’ve been hours that they stand there and just _kiss_ . It’s intoxicating, the way Jensen’s so familiar to hin. Jared licks at the seam of his lips, prays for more, and Jensen gives in to him so sweetly. It feels a little like being thrown into deep water and peering up at the sun through the warping waves, and there’s something intensely peaceful about being so close to death, so ready for whatever comes after. Jensen’s different like this, different from the sure-footed confident guy Jared’s known for so many years, but there’s nothing surprising about this. This is Jensen, and this is Jensen with Jared, and this is the both of them kissing each other stupid, and it’s _okay_. 

Jared pulls away slowly, blinks his eyes open to watch Jensen’s eyelashes flutter, and there’s a little smile on his face that Jared feels himself mirror. 

“Okay,” Jensen says shakily. His gaze flickers to Misha and he grins. “C’mere, you.”

Misha’s been with them for longer than any other cast member has, for more reason than just being an audience favorite. He’s loud, boisterous, even more so than Jared, and he’s so unapologetically _Misha_ that it’s impossible not to get sucked up into his crazy, sometimes downright insane, orbit. Jared’s favorite thing is watching Jensen bloom like a flower finding the sun whenever he and Misha interact, bouncing off of one another like two over-excited puppies. Jensen’s been _the shy one_ in the past, and Jared’s been there for him since day one as his willing tag-along extrovert, but there’s something special in his relationship with Misha that Jared’s not ashamed to say he adores. 

Jensen loves Misha. Which is probably why Jared feels his gut twist up sharp when they finally kiss, and it’s nothing at all like the sly quips and teasing jokes they share between one another on set, on stage, even.

It can’t be described with any word other than reverent. Misha kisses Jensen like _he’s_ the angel, like Misha’s the blessed soul chosen to be intimate with this pure, faultless being. He’s so gentle he almost looks fearful, but Jensen grabs him tight and molds their lips together and it spirals down into something sinful, something needy, and Jared gets why Misha liked the view so much.

They pull away quickly, like they don’t want to lose the imprint of that high, and Jared can feel the waves of unspoken emotion flow between them, thick as molasses. They’re speaking to one another, reading the replies in the quirk of an eyebrow or the peek of a dimple, and then Misha’s looking over at Jared with a smirk on his face and Jared is _reeling_.

“Guess it’s just you and me now, huh?” he teases. Jared floats to his side, a little hazy on how he gets there, but it’s the press of Misha’s lips against his that startles his brain into awareness, into _oh god, Misha is kissing me and it feels fucking good_.

He and Misha get along like two halves of one dumb, dirty whole. They play jokes off each other relentlessly, weaving and passing through their similar wit and sense of humor. Things have always been good with Misha; easygoing for most of it and wild when it counts. Jared’s expecting Misha to be as crazy a lover as a friend, and he is, but it’s not in the way he thought. 

Misha’s rougher with him, pressing a little deeper, nipping a little harder, and Jared just clings tight and holds on for the ride. It’s grounding, kissing Misha like this, and Jared thinks he knows that. 

When Misha pulls away, he glances up at Jared and tilts his head. Jared can see the gears grind in his mind, but he doesn’t expect it when Misha says, “Thank you.” Misha glances somewhere behind him, probably at Jensen, and adds, “Both of you.” There’s a little quiver in his words when his suave facade splinters right down the middle, his smile going wobbly. Jensen makes a noise in his throat, but Jared’s closer, so he just grabs Misha around the shoulders and pulls him in tight.

Misha doesn’t exactly cry, but it’s a near thing; he’s shaking like a leaf, shivering like he’s impossibly cold, and Jared just holds him and tucks his head under his chin, one hand across his back and the other pressed against the back of his head. Jensen slips his arms around them both, and Jared readjusts his grip to grab Jensen too, fisting the back of his shirt and holding him close. 

It’s a crude mimicry of their earlier joyous smiles, with their now-watery eyes and shuddering breaths. They’re huddled together in a goddamn motel room off a random exit off-route, and Jared can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be right now than with these two right beside him. 

“God.” Misha’s laugh sounds muffled through Jared’s sweatshirt. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”

“Which part?” Jensen snorts. “I think most of today qualifies, man.”

“Guys,” Misha says, and he lifts his head up, finally, looks between the two of them with such a serious expression on his face that Jared gets a little nervous. “I-- I’m not kidding. I’m so thankful for the past few years, and for getting to spend all this time with you. It’s been the best part of my life. I mean it. Thank you.” 

“I’ve already cried today, Misha,” Jensen reminds him, but there’s a residual gleam in his eyes as he says it. Jared huffs and it comes out weird. He hides it by kissing Misha’s hairline, lingering just a little so his message comes across clear. 

_There is no need for thanks_ , it says. _Not to us_.

Misha inhales sharply. Jared smiles into his skin. 

Message received.

  
  


\--

  
  


Jensen claims first shower while Jared rubs Misha’s back and shuffles him over to the couch. Misha’s head is cushioned on Jared’s chest when Jensen comes back out, toweling off his wet-not-sticky hair with another towel wrapped around his hips. Jared nudges softly at Misha.

“Go shower,” he says. Misha mumbles a weak protest, but he pushes himself up with a yawn. Jared sends him off with a kiss to the wrist, and then welcomes Jensen with open arms.

“You okay?” Jared asks. Jensen sighs and rests his cheek against his neck. 

“Just thinking,” he says. Jared hums, sets one hand against Jensen’s spine, dipping his fingers into the hem of his towel to trace the band of his boxers. His skin is still chilled from the shower, even under the towel, but it warms up fast. He smells fresh, almost citrusy, and his damp hair clings to Jared’s chin when Jensen shifts. Jared smiles and his hand worms its way up into Jensen’s scalp, smoothing down errant strands.

“Thinking about what?” he asks.

“Fifteen years, man.” Jensen’s gone quiet now, wistful. The shower turns on in the bathroom and Jensen blinks awake. “It’s just-- It’s a lot. Don’t wanna say goodbye.”

“They’re not going anywhere,” Jared soothes, rubbing little circles into the back of Jensen’s head. “You know they’ll always be part of us, right?”

“I know that,” Jensen says. “But I don’t wanna forget. I really don’t want to forget.” 

Jared’s silent for a while, and Jensen’s happy to slip back into tranquility. Jensen gets used to Jared’s soft touches and Jared gets used to Jensen’s warm breath hitting his throat, and then Jared smiles and stills.

“I can help you remember.” Jensen’s eyebrows furrow. He uses his elbow to push himself up.

“What?” Jared’s grinning now, and Jensen can’t help himself from smiling a little, too, though a little confusedly.

“I’ll help you remember.” And then Jared trails his fingers down his neck, cupping his spine and settling low at the base of it, his other hand coming up to rest on his cheek. He tugs him closer, bumping their foreheads together, and Jared’s eyes are shining when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Scene one,” he whispers, laughing, “take one.” Jensen snorts in disbelief, but he plays right along, taking over and saying the magic word himself:

“Action.”

Jared’s never felt less like Sam, giggling like a schoolgirl and staring into Jensen’s eyes like he’s lovesick, but he knows Sam more intimately than anyone else ever can. There are no scripts now, no words to perform, so Jared lets Sam speak, lets him take over, and it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“Dean?” He’s right there, a bare breath away, and it’s terrifying how little they have to change to get into character. Dean smiles, flushes a little - isn’t that a pretty sight? - but he doesn’t pull himself away. Sam doesn’t think he could handle it if he did.

“‘M here,” Dean says, and Sam’s chest flutters. 

Jared’s touchy; always has been, always will be. Sam, though a little more reserved in his actions, has the same desire for it as his counterpart, but he doesn’t have the same trust in people that Jared does. There’s one exception for him, as in most things, with his big brother, who is seemingly allergic to the concept of affectionate touching, but Dean feels different right now, more fragile, more hopeful in the way he opens himself up for it, accepts it. 

“Sap,” Sam teases, softens the edge in his voice until it’s no longer present. Dean chuckles, blinks open his eyes again, stares down at Sam with a glint in his eye.

“You’re the one who wanted me here,” he says. Sam hums, thumbs softly at the base of Dean’s spine. All the fight rushes out of him at the touch, and he wriggles himself down Sam’s body to settle his cheek against his jaw.

“I do want you here,” Sam admits. It’s a little more Jensen than Dean when he turns his head to kiss Sam’s neck, a little more gratitude than smug victory, but Dean’s still there, making his presence known in his tired sigh and his shuffling to get comfortable.

The shower shuts off and the door squeals open, letting out a cloud of steam. Misha pads through with a towel around his shoulders, boxers on. His hair is still dripping wet, and when he glances over at the occupied couch, he breaks into a smile Sam’s never seen on Castiel before.

“Your turn, Sammy,” Dean mumbles, but it takes Sam actually getting up for Dean to groan and roll off. He’s Jared again when he stops in front of Misha.

“He’s Dean,” he explains, and Misha nods slowly, a little perplexed. “He didn’t wanna forget them.” Jared sees the exact moment Misha gets it, and then he leaves with a pat to his shoulder, slumping into the warm cocoon of steam blanketing the bathroom.

“This is the only time you guys haven’t fucked with me during a take, you know that?” A startled yelp is the last thing Jared hears when he shuts the door behind him. 

  
  


\--

  
  


When he steps back out, it’s Misha and Jensen curled up together on the couch and not Dean and Castiel. Jensen’s half asleep but Misha’s wide awake, holding Jensen’s hand tight and whispering to him. Their towels are hanging over the opposite side of the couch, completely forgotten. Jensen perks up a little when he spots Jared, but not nearly enough, so Jared tosses his towel onto the armrest and quirks a brow.

“I think it’s time for bed.”

Jensen mutters protests for the hell of it, but he’s pliant when Misha wraps an arm around his waist and urges him up. Jared takes his other side, and the two of them work together to deposit Jensen onto one of the beds, tucking him under the sheets. Jensen grabs Jared’s wrist before they turn away.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling him close, and Jared leans in to accept a chaste kiss. He pulls back and looks at Misha, who smiles and mirrors him. Jensen looks sated when that’s done, and Jared wonders if he’s gonna blame it on delirium come morning. 

He’s out like a light, snoring peacefully under the covers. Jared and Misha step back and away, letting him rest. 

“Take the bed,” Jared says suddenly. Misha scoffs, eyebrows pulled up high.

“Do you really think I’m letting you sleep on the couch?” he asks. “Can you even fit?”

Jared chuckles. “That’s what she said,” he quips, and Misha shoves him hard, grinning. “But seriously,” Jared adds, turning to look at Misha. “Take the bed. It’s just for one night, anyway.”

“Absolutely not.” He snorts. “I’d rather you sleep with me than take the couch.”

“Fine.”

Misha blinks, stunned. “Fine?”

“If that’s the only way I can get you to take the bed, then fine.” Misha laughs a little awkwardly.

“You’re okay with that?” Jared looks at him weirdly.

“Dude, I’ve kissed you like, twice today. Don’t tell me you draw the line at sharing a bed.”

Misha just scoffs and walks up to the side of the bed closest to the nightstand. Jared grins and takes the other side. 

It’s a little cramped for two guys, two tall guys at that, but Misha just tosses a leg over Jared’s hip and nestles into his pillow. Not one to be outdone, Jared rests his arm over Misha’s waist, pulling him a little closer. There’s barely any space between them when Misha chuckles and noses at his jaw.

“Night, Jared.” Jared drops a kiss on his forehead and sighs happily.

“You too, Mish.” 

Jensen’s snores fade into nothing as Jared finally shuts his eyes and lets the soft sands of slumber coax him to sleep.

  
  


\--

  
  


When Jared rouses, he’s still a little out of it. He knows that someone’s pressed up against his chest and breathing hot into his neck, but it’s only a vague notion in his mind that tells him it’s Misha. 

He doesn’t react when he shifts and something bumps against his thigh, still floating in the space between asleep and awake. And then his eyes fly wide open. 

Misha’s still asleep, which means it’s not his fault he’s hard, but Jared’s awake and that means he’s not gonna be able to go back to sleep. He doesn’t want to wake Misha up, not after how draining yesterday had been, but he’s not exactly thrilled to lie completely still and wait for him to wake up on his own, either. 

The decision is made for him when Misha stirs, stretching like a cat and groaning in his throat. The blanket rides down, settling heavy on Jared’s waist, and he doesn’t even have time to pretend to be asleep before Misha’s blinking awake, awareness flooding slowly through his body. 

He stiffens when he realizes what’s happening. Jared would crack a joke if he wasn’t feeling just as uncertain. 

“Good morning,” he says, voice rough with disuse. Misha gapes, tries to shuffle back, but Jared just locks his arm against his back, keeping him there. Misha looks up, eyebrows pressed together in a frantic question, and Jared purses his lips, meets his gaze, decides to run like hell with this stupid idea floating around in his head.

“You don’t have to leave.” Misha goes still at first, then tense with distrust, and then he slumps back down into the mattress. 

“Really?” he asks, soft and unsure. Jared strokes his back and nods. The sunlight from the shuttered window hits Misha’s face, highlighting his lips and his blush-dusted cheeks. 

“If you’re okay with it then so am I.” 

“You’re sure?” Misha’s slow to approach Jared again, but Jared lets him take his time. His hips arrive last, with Jared right there to whisper sweetly in his ear, to soothe his goosebumps away with his palm.

“Can I touch you?” he asks gently. Misha nods, and Jared offers him a smile and a kiss. It’s a little messy, still jerky and uncoordinated, but it gets a hell of a lot sweeter when Jared slips a hand down Misha’s stomach and he gasps. 

“Okay?” he asks again and Misha mumbles a _yes_ against his lips. 

Jared spends a few minutes just tracing the waistband of his boxers, smiling faintly when Misha melts into his touch. Before Misha can demand he hurry up, Jared slides his hand under the band and bumps against his cock, hot and leaking already, and he hears Misha let out a small groan.

He kisses him again, eyes fluttering shut, wrapping a hand around him and pulling slow. Misha’s hips twitch, already sensitive. He’s not gonna last long, but Jared’s not expecting him to.

Jared pulls away with a quiet gasp, peppering kisses along Misha’s jaw and up to his ear, licking at the shell of it and biting it softly. 

“Will you let me blow you?” he asks. Jared feels it when his cock jerks against his palm, and it’s through a strained exhale that Misha looks up at him and hisses out a firm, “ _Yes_.”

Jared shimmies his way down his body, planting little kisses along the way; against his chest, his abs, his belly; and then he hooks the waistband of his boxers with his free hand and tugs it down to rest snug under his balls. Jared can see his cock now, thick and veiny and dripping precome, but it’s Misha’s expression - all wide-eyed awe and blush-red shyness - that makes him flush warm.

Misha runs a hesitant hand through Jared’s hair, and Jared leans into it with a pleased purr. He waits for Misha to relax before he kisses his hip bone, nibbling at the skin there and licking over it to soothe the momentary sting. He does the same to the other side, fingers curled loose around his shaft and just tracing a prominent vein, not moving. There are red marks along the line of his hips when Jared pulls back and looks up, and Misha’s looking right back, expression open and wrecked already. 

“You good?” Jared asks one more time. Misha smiles, stuck somewhere between fond and exasperated and starstruck, tracing circles along his hairline. 

“Yeah,” he assures him. Satisfied, Jared dips his head and licks his way up the shaft. Misha’s hand tightens against his scalp, pulling his hair taut. 

Jared shuffles onto his forearms to press a kiss to the slit, licking away the salty-bitter tang, and then he slips the tip past his lips, suckling gently, drinking down Misha’s stuttered curse with a muffled sigh. 

Jared’s eyes flicker back up, peering at Misha through his lashes as he takes him a little deeper, fisting the length he can’t quite fit in his mouth. He feels Misha’s shiver, sees him bite his lower lip to stifle his groan.

Misha’s trying so hard to hold himself back, to make this last. Jared’s ruefully inexperienced, relying on what he’s seen in porn and has had done to him to guide his motions, but he’s still feeling his way around in the dark, searching for those spots on Misha’s body that make him moan. 

Jared hums around his mouthful, sucking eagerly and hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head. He’s aware that Misha’s keeping himself quiet for Jensen’s sake, but Jared wants to hear him. 

His free hand rubs against one of his thighs, dancing up his leg to cup his balls, thumbing and squeezing them gently. He pulls back up to swirl his tongue around the head, smiling at the little reward of a moan that gets punched out of Misha’s throat. 

Jared’s never sucked dick in his life, so he’s faintly surprised when he realizes he’s hard, but then Misha pulls his knees further apart, and it’s distracting enough that Jared crawls closer to keep him spread open, pulling his dick out of his mouth with a slick pop. 

He risks a glance over at Jensen’s bed, relaxing at the sight of him curled up and still fast asleep. Then, he pulls his eyes up and meets Misha’s gaze.

There’s a fragility to morning sex that gets displayed in the slight tremble of Misha’s thighs and the mumbled warnings he gives way too soon after they’ve begun. He’s sensitive, nerves lighting up at the slightest touch, and that’s really the best part of it all, in Jared’s most humble opinion.

Misha, the one who cracks jokes; Misha, the one who uses offensive language; Misha, who seems to be the physical embodiment of having an attitude. That same Misha is the one Jared’s got to go silent, to go pliant, all because he’s the one with a mouth around his dick. 

Misha’s desperate, just for him, and that’s fucking _hot._

“Jared,” Misha breathes. “Hurry, before he wakes up.” Jared’s eyes flash, and that’s when Misha realizes he’s said exactly the wrong thing. He tries to backtrack, but it falls on deaf ears; Jared just grins and fists his dick, licking broadly up the shaft and over his slit, and Misha’s inhale catches somewhere in the middle of his throat. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jared teases. He swallows him down as far as he can, smiling when he feels Misha’s entire body go rigid. He’s already close, probably has been for a while, so Jared just shuts his eyes and feels the weight of him on his tongue, hot and heavy. 

Misha’s fingers tangle up in his hair again, tugging at the strands hard in an attempt to pull Jared off. He doesn’t follow; he sucks him harder instead, coaxing, squeezing his thigh in reassurance, and Misha shudders from head to toe, loosening his grip in half-hearted defeat.

“M’sha?” Jared’s eyes flutter open, and he glances at the opposite bed out of the corner of his eye. Jensen looks a little lost, sleep-rumpled, but he’s sparking with interest, stirring from under his crumpled sheets. Jared grins, turning his gaze from Jensen to Misha, who looks about two seconds from coming, and just quirks a brow in an unspoken challenge. He sees Misha’s eyes widen, and then he moans, uninhibited now that the secret’s out, toes curling to point up at the ceiling. Jared shivers and makes a noise in his throat when Misha cries out, thick, bitter come hitting his tongue. 

He swallows it down as it fills his mouth, slowing to a stop as Misha pants and comes down from it. He loosens his grip on Jared’s hair and smoothes it down in tender apology. Jared just sucks his cock clean and lets it drop on his stomach, resting his cheek against Misha’s hip and sighing whenever Misha scratches past a sensitive spot on his scalp. A hand brushes Jared’s shoulder and he smiles; he knows who that is.

“Scoot,” Jensen rumbles, and Misha nudges himself aside, urging Jared to follow. Jensen crawls up onto the bed - it’s fucking crowded; they are _way_ too tall for this - and fits himself beside Jared, leaning over his shoulder to kiss his cheek. Jared twists his neck and catches his lips, capturing Jensen’s muffled moan. Misha grunts approvingly, and Jared reaches a hand blindly behind him to grab one of his own, squeezing it tight. Misha squeezes back.

“Jesus, I figured it’d be you two first.” Jensen laughs and kisses Jared again, humming high and content. Jared knocks their foreheads together when they split, offering a grin. 

“It was practically Misha’s fault,” he says. Misha scoffs and punches his shoulder. 

“Don’t remember hearing you complain,” he shoots back. Jared’s grin goes crooked, and he turns to look over his shoulder, Jensen’s nose nudging his cheek. 

“Nothing to complain about.” Jared licks his lips, dropping his gaze briefly back down to his crotch, and he laughs loudly when Misha swats at his arm again, grinning. 

“Sleep well?” Jared asks Jensen, turning back around to look at him. His eyes are still sleepily-lidded and his movements are soft, weighted, but he’s waking up, and so is his cock by how it’s pressed up against Jared’s thigh, already half hard. Jared runs a thumb across the back of Misha’s hand and lets him go. 

Jared slots his leg between Jensen’s and pushes his thigh up, pulling him close and running his palm down his back. Jensen grunts and ruts into his leg, and Jared kisses him, mumbling encouragement under his breath. Jensen trails a hand up to Jared’s cheek, palm hot against his skin. Jared tenses his leg and Jensen mutters a curse, boxers darkening with a rush of precome. His rolls get slicker, smoother, until Jared steadies a hand on his lower back and urges him to slow to a stop. 

“Just let me help you, Jen,” Jared says, reaching for his waistband. Jensen goes a little pink, but he doesn’t protest or deny his advances; he just lies still and lifts his hips when Jared pulls his boxers down and off his body. He stares at him, at all that exposed, pretty skin, and it’s only when Jensen starts to squirm that Jared snaps out of it. 

“C’mere,” he coaxes, gathering Jensen up to his chest and kissing him again, just for the sake of it, just to show how much this means to him. Jensen’s softer now, gentler, and it’s sweet sorrow when they pull away, Jared smiling warmly. 

“Pretty everywhere, Jen, I swear,” he whispers, and Jensen’s eyes darken at the same time that they shimmer. Jared slides his thigh between his legs again, moaning at the touch of skin to skin, at the thought that there’s nothing between his skin and Jensen’s, and he presses a kiss to the corner of Jensen’s lips. 

“I gotcha, c’mon,” Jared grabs his hip and starts a rhythm, gentling his grip until it’s just Jensen rutting against his thigh, leaving precome in smears across his skin. Jared’s hand glides lower, grabbing Jensen’s ass, pushing his knee up and his hand down and peppering kisses onto Jensen’s jaw. 

“So good, Jen, yeah, just like that,” he purrs into his ear. “Gonna come for us?”

Jensen’s eyes widen and flicker over his shoulder, and his cock twitches and drools. Misha’s gone still behind him, Jared can feel it, but he’s just as eager to see, just as eager to watch Jensen lose it, and isn’t that why they’re here? 

Jared loves them, loves them so much his heart aches with it. This is what they deserve to have; this care, this attention; the most of what he has to offer. 

Misha had looked so beautiful, spread out and wanting so badly, but he looked even more beautiful when he finally got what he wanted, what he needed, what _Jared_ could give him. Jensen’s alive in front of him, gasping his air, lips blood red and parted, flushed down his neck and fucking up into him so prettily, and Jared’s heart hurts so bad he’s worried it’ll bruise. 

“Wanna see you, Jen,” Jared breathes, “fuck, show me what you look like when you come.”

“Christ, Jared.” Jensen screws his eyes shut, rhythm stuttering, and Jared startles when Misha leans over his shoulder, kissing Jensen’s nose and then his cheek and then his lips, hovering just far enough that Jared can watch them do it. 

_Jesus,_ Jared is so fucking hard right now. Jensen parts his lips to let Misha in, reaching for his face to pull him in tight, and Misha hums and slots them impossibly closer. Jared’s grip on Jensen’s ass gets tighter, pressing his hips down and maneuvering him further into his lap. Jensen’s thighs tense up around his own as he moans into Misha’s mouth. 

Misha pulls back and settles on his haunches, away from Jensen but close enough that they’re still within reach of one another. He smiles, resting a hand on Jared’s bicep. 

“Just relax, Jensen,” he says quietly. “Jared’s got you.” Jensen looks up at Jared, who’s staring steadily back, quirking his mouth into a reassuring grin. 

“I’m already--” Jensen stops, gasping, and then says, “oh god, holy _shit, Jared,”_ when Jared slips a finger down his crack, pressing up just under his balls to massage his taint. His legs spread a little and Jared leans forward to nose against his Adam's apple, licking a hot stripe across his skin, feeling it vibrate when Jensen groans. 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Misha mumbles behind them. Jared massages that spot gingerly, tensing his thigh to give Jensen more leverage, and Jensen makes a noise that’s almost a sob, but it’s not pain or fear and it goes straight to Jared’s cock. 

“Jared,” Jensen whispers, hoarse, “Misha, I-I’m gonna--”

Jared pulls his head back to watch Jensen’s face as his eyes flutter shut and his jaw drops, body tensing up as he finally spills, messing up Jared’s thigh and his belly and his chest. Jared’s fingers don’t let up until Jensen slumps bonelessly into the bed, and then he slowly pulls his hand free and leans down to kiss Jensen again and again, whispering praise that leaves Jensen pink and glowing and smiling hazily between each one. 

Misha’s hand squeezes Jared’s bicep, and Jared pulls back to let Misha kiss Jensen too, but Misha tugs his shoulder and rolls him onto his back. Jared blinks up at him, not quite registering Misha’s grin until that same hand trails down his belly to grab his cock through his boxers, making him arch up and gasp loudly. 

“Such a gentleman, making us come first,” he says. Jensen shuffles closer and rests his cheek on Jared’s shoulder. His limbs are a little sluggish after his orgasm, but he slides a hand onto Jared’s chest, thumbing softly at the nipple closest to him, smiling into Jared’s skin when he gets a whimper in return. 

“We really should return the favor, shouldn’t we?” 

“Please,” Jared begs. Misha softens a little, folding at the waist so he can lean down and give him a kiss, deep and dirty. Misha squeezes his dick, capturing Jared’s moan between his lips, and when he pulls away, he glances up at Jensen and grins. 

Jared doesn’t catch Jensen’s expression, but he can feel the heat from his smile settle warmly against his side. Misha rubs his palm against his cock, touch muffled by the cotton surrounding it, and Jared squirms, biting his lip hard between his teeth, hips twitching up into his hand. Jared might be losing it, slowly fading away to someplace that isn’t on this motel bed with two sets of eyes boring into him, watching him, but Misha nudges his hip and coaxes him slowly back into his own body.

“Hands and knees, Jared.” Jared blinks and slowly shuffles into position. His limbs are shaking, but they don’t buckle under him, and Misha squeezes his thigh, kissing the dip in the small of his back. Jared flushes under the attention, cheeks flaming when Jensen grabs his chin and turns his head to the side. 

“Move your arms a little, sweetheart,” Jensen murmurs. “Lemme get under you.” Jared shifts, unsteady, but Jensen’s quick to settle under him and grab his waist, steadying him with a firm grip. Jensen’s level with his chest, looking up at him, and Jared stares back under the curtain of hair flopping over his face, offering a tentative smile. Jensen’s grin is blinding, and more than a little contagious. 

“That’s it, gorgeous, just let it all go.” Jared’s control slips from his grasp and he fumbles, fruitlessly, desperately, but Misha’s pressed up close behind him and Jensen’s holding him steady, mumbling sweet nothings against his chest, and Jared’s reasons for needing that control dwindle away into nothing. 

“Look at you, doing so good for us, Jay.” Jared hears Jensen’s words like he’s far away, buried under thick sheets, cock throbbing as Misha rubs him down. Jensen’s hands wander, trailing faint fingertips up his abs to pinch at his nipples, craning his neck up to suck one bud in his mouth. Jared gasps, jolting, but Misha holds him up, still, palms kneading at the meat of his thighs as Jensen takes him apart from the neck down. 

The first touch of Misha’s fingers to Jared’s ass startles him. He quickly relaxes, shuffling his knees apart in silent submission, and Misha rewards him with a quiet _good boy_ and a kiss on the ass. His mouth falls dangerously close to his hole, but Jared expects it this time. Misha hums, pleased when he doesn’t flinch away, and pulls his ass open with both hands. Jared flushes, burning up, and focuses his attention on Jensen, who’s nibbling gently at the same nipple, pulling back to leave it tender and sore and red. 

“C’mere,” Jensen coaxes, curling a hand around his neck and pulling him down. Their lips meet messily, not at all graceful, but it’s hungry and sweet and so fucking good. Jared whimpers, somewhere high in his throat, and Jensen breathes it in greedily. They pull away with their lips as sore as Jared’s nipple, and then Jensen gives him a wink and attaches his mouth to the other nipple, suckling it to that same soreness. 

Something hot and wet takes a swipe across his rim, and Jared tenses and loses himself a little more. His dick almost hurts with how long he’s had to wait, but it’s a good ache, the kind that settles deep in his bones, the kind that promises something more than just satisfaction. Jared shivers and waits. Misha doesn’t leave him hanging. 

They don’t touch his cock at first. Misha spears his tongue deeper once Jared’s muscles have gone lax, tonguing at his walls and getting whispery moans and hip rolls in return. Jared’s statuesque with embarrassment until the desperation outweighs it, and then he’s pushing his ass back onto Misha’s mouth, open and dripping and begging for more without a single word. Jensen diligently toys with his chest, pinching and pulling and twisting at tender nipples until Jared’s cock is leaking thick and steady, red and hard as all hell. 

He’s not sure how long they work him up - it could’ve been hours for all he knows - but time stops rushing past him in a blur when Misha traces his rim with his finger, pushing the tip in along with his tongue, pulling his hole open. It’s rough, almost too-much, but the dull ache vanishes under the rush of pleasure, sending his hips kicking clumsily backwards. 

Jensen shushes him, thumbing across his nipple, and finally grabs his cock, forcing a sound akin to a stifled sob to come out of Jared’s throat when he moves his fist slowly up and down, squeezing around the tip, slicking up his palm with Jared’s precome. 

“Feel good?” Jared nods, curling his head down in an arch to get Jensen’s lips on his again, kissing him all loose and wanting, breathing hard when Misha’s finger slips in up to the first knuckle. His tongue presses up beside it in a wet, sloppy slide, and he clenches up hard when Misha finally gets his whole finger inside, stroking along his walls and searching for that spot inside him that’ll make him feel really fucking good. 

“You close?” Jared nods again, and Jensen smiles, kissing him slow and careful. He jerks him off a little faster, squeezes his dick a little harder, drinking down the steady flow of whimpers that spill from Jared’s mouth, and Jared’s mind swirls, trapped between either side of stimulation, thighs quaking when Misha finally finds his prostate. 

“Fuck, Misha, right there, d-don’t stop.” Jared gasps, crying out when Misha cups his balls too, squeezing and fondling the sensitive flesh. Jensen mouths along the curve of his neck, dipping to suck a mark into the side of it, licking gently to soothe the sting, and Jared’s cock jerks in Jensen’s grip, spilling sticky-clear strands onto Jensen’s belly. Jensen makes a noise and speeds up, twisting his wrist on every upstroke, and Jared whines. 

“Gonna come, Jay?” Jensen’s not looking away from his face, and Jared chews at his lower lip until it stings. “Let us see how pretty you look, baby.” 

Misha crooks his finger and seals his lips around his rim, sucking hard, and all it takes is Jensen brushing his palm over his swollen nipples for Jared to tense and buck, eyes squeezing shut around a stuttered moan as he finally comes, shooting over Jensen’s torso in thick strands. Misha grunts and doesn’t let up on that sweet pressure right where Jared needs it, and Jensen grins and arches his back, skin gleaming, jacking his fist around Jared’s cock to milk him dry. 

Jared taps out when it gets too much, and Jensen releases his grip on his cock as Misha pulls off and away, petting across his overheated skin and pressing his lips to his back. Jensen brings him down onto the bed, rolling him so he’s on his side, and Misha crawls up to Jared’s other side. Jared turns and grins, sleepy and sated, and reaches out to him. Misha just laughs low in his throat and presses right up against him, peppering his face with kisses. Jensen slips away with a squeeze to the shoulder, and Jared hears the far-away rush of the faucet opening. He drifts back to Misha, who’s glowing, nosing at his cheek with every kiss. 

“So good, Jared,” he mutters between pecks, “Love you so much.”

“Love you too, Misha,” Jared says. “Fuck, I love you both so fucking much.” He feels weirdly shy - _vulnerable_ \- to be the sole focus of Misha’s attention, and it doesn’t get any better when Jensen comes back with a damp towel, wiping up the come still on Jared’s dick before bundling it up and tossing it across the room onto the floor, clambering up on the bed to curl up against Jared’s back. 

He’s lying naked on a bed with these two guys he’d take a bullet and more for, still shaking with how hard they’d made him come, but Misha smiles warmly at him and Jensen nestles up to his neck and kisses the sweat-slick skin there, so soft and reverent, and Jared’s eyes prick. He blinks rapidly a couple times to urge the tears away. Misha softens, curling an arm around Jensen’s back and tugging them both close. Jensen mimics him, tossing an arm across Jared, and Jared’s never felt more safe, more protected, than in this exact moment. 

“I wanna stay,” Misha says. He doesn’t need to explain, and he doesn’t need to convince; Jared just hums and settles down, and Jensen cuddles closer and sighs under his breath. They’re all exhausted, content and peaceful for what feels like the first time since they’d started snapping pictures for the photoshoot, and maybe it’s the way they’d been cornered into confronting this massive spiral of feelings and emotions they each have for one another, but when Jared considers their day and the aching, all-consuming surety of the end, of change, of crossing a bridge into the unknown future, he doesn’t feel fear anymore. 

Because this is _real_ ; this thing between them, whatever it is, it’s real. It’s real, and it’s iron-bound, and it’s never going to leave him because they love him with just as much of their souls as he does, with just as much need, and desire, and _want_ as he does. 

  
“I love you,” Jared says, to nobody in particular, and when he gets two mumbled _‘love you too’_ s and twin kisses to either side of his body, he somehow knows that the three of them are going to be just fine. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos make my day <33


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